Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mickey pushes the front door open as quietly as he can, tiptoeing into the apartment to avoid making any noise. A few hours ago, Ian texted him to say that he had left work early because he's sick and he was going to go home and sleep, and Mickey really doesn't want to wake him up (even though he's going to have to because he's bought Ian medicine to hopefully help speed up the healing process).

He toes off his shoes in the hallway and hangs up his jacket before beginning to make his way towards the kitchen. All of the lights in the flat are off and Mickey is reluctant to turn any of them on because he knows that being sick makes bright lights seem loud and a lot more intense than normal and he wants to avoid affecting Ian like that if he can help it. There's a faint noise coming from the living room, though, and Mickey stops in his tracks, turning toward the noise instead. "Ian?" he whispers as he walks into the living room, trying to keep relatively quiet in case Ian is asleep.

It turns out the noise is from the TV and Mickey barely hears Ian hum in response over the sound. He turns to face Ian, finding him sat on the sofa, bundled up in the biggest, thicket blanket they own. Mickey reaches down to turn on the lamp furthest from Ian so he can see better and then walks over to the couch, kneeling down as Ian watches him with hooded eyes.

"Hey," Mickey whispers, offering a small smile. He gives Ian a visual once-over, wincing internally at how ill he looks. His eyes are rimmed red, glistening yet also so dull, and his skin is paler than usual, contrasting with the redness of his cheeks, ears, and the tip of his nose. He's visibly shaking too, despite the blanket draped over him and the hoodie that Mickey has only just realised he's wearing; Ian has the hood pulled up over his head, and the hoodie is Mickey's, which makes Mickey's heart jump in his chest with fondness.

"Hi." Ian's voice is croaky and deep and he sounds even worse than he looks, which Mickey didn't think was possible. Ian being sick is definitely not something Mickey wants to see often. Obviously, Ian looks adorable all bundled up like this, but it's horrible to look at somebody Mickey cares so much for in such a position, especially where Mickey is pretty much powerless at making things better.

"How did you sleep?" Mickey asks as he opens the carrier bag he has with him that's filled with medicine and soup and everything he could think of to buy that might help. He's not used to Ian being sick, but he has nothing against taking care of him as much as he can; at least it gives him an excuse to baby him, and it gives Ian a chance to relax.

Mickey's pulling out the bottle of medicine when Ian answers, "I didn't." Mickey lifts his head quickly, frowning, and he's forming some sort of lecture in his head about Ian needing to sleep before Ian continues, more quietly this time: "I couldn't sleep without you."

Ian sounds so insecure and Mickey's heart skips a beat, all the while breaking at the image of Ian unable to fall asleep while feeling like shit, just having to wait for Mickey to come home. The thought makes him regret not leaving work early, too - he had considered it, but he hadn't thought there was point if Ian was just going to sleep the entire time.

He measures out the medicine in the lid from the bottle. "You shoulda told me," he says as Ian takes the medicine with a faint smile, "I would've come home."

Ian downs the medicine, face contorting into one of disgust at the taste and he hands the lid back to Mickey, who screws it back onto the bottle. "That's why I didn't tell you."

Mickey rolls his eyes, dropping the bag on the table. It's so typical of Ian to not think of himself in a situation like this, even if Mickey would've been much happier at home looking after him.

He stands up, motioning for Ian to move over. Ian shuffles lazily to the side, eyebrows furrowing and Mickey feels the guilt fill him because Ian looks like even the slightest of movement is painful for him, and Mickey hates that he can't do anything to help with that. He feels powerless, like he should be able to do something but all he can do is hold Ian, so that's what he plans to do. When Ian has moved over enough, Mickey climbs under the blanket and covers them both comfortably. Immediately, he lifts his arm and Ian huddles into his side, head on Mickey's shoulder and Mickey is stuck between grinning at Ian's cuddliness and frowning at the heat radiating from him, despite the fact that Ian is still shivering violently against him.

As Ian settles against him, Mickey curls his arm around Ian's waist to hopefully warm him and presses a quick kiss to the top of Ian's head. His thumb rubs soothing circles against Ian's side, which Mickey hopes is going to help lull him peacefully to sleep. He glances at whatever is on TV that Ian was apparently trying to watch before Mickey came home, but it's foreign to Mickey's eyes and he's automatically tuning in on the sound of Ian's slightly laboured breathing. As horrible as it sounds, especially when it's coming from Ian, it's slow and it brings Mickey a slight sense of calmness.

It's not long before Ian is fast asleep, completely slumped against Mickey and Mickey smiles to himself, filling with pride. Sure, he hates that Ian couldn't sleep without him when he's been feeling as bad as he does, but it's kind of nice to know that he still has that effect on Ian. Besides, it's not as if he doesn't understand - when Ian is away, Mickey barely ever sleeps. He's become so accustomed to sleeping in a bed with Ian to cuddle with every night that being alone is just cold and wrong and he struggles to deal with it more than he'd like to admit.

It's okay, though, because Mickey has Ian here now and he's going to take the next few days off work to look after him (despite how much Ian is going to try to convince him otherwise). But for now, he's just going to hold him as Ian snores softly against him.